


The Postmortem Interval

by deepestfathoms



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dark Souls AU, Gen, Jane will mother anyone, Kitty is Jane’s Ward, Kitty is a brat, Monsters, Putrefaction, Selectively Mute Character, Set In The 16th-Century, Violence, even a corpse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 17:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22001542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepestfathoms/pseuds/deepestfathoms
Summary: When monsters and demons start targeting Jane, Henry digs up and lets loose old secrets to protect her. Because what’s better to kill a monster than another monster?
Relationships: Henry VIII of England/Jane Seymour
Kudos: 20





	The Postmortem Interval

With a final moan, the hulking green behemoth collapsed into the snow covering the castle pavilion. Its spiked mace clattered beside its corpse as it breathed its last breath and then went still. Beneath it, the organs that had been oozing out from the punctures and slices to its belly squished loudly, blood so dark it almost looked black pooling out around it.

Nobody moved for a long time, waiting for the beast to move again, to swing its mighty flail once more and kill dozens of others, to let loose its deafening, bloodcurdling roar.

But it didn’t.

“How many did we lose?” Was the first thing Henry asked, his voice gruff, like the howl of wind in between icy glaciers.

“Seven, sir,” The head of the guard- Brutus- answered. “Eleven wounded.”

Henry sighed heavily and pressed his fingers to his forehead. He muttered something Brutus couldn’t hear before raising his head, glaring at the monster as if he were hoping it would come back to life so he could eviscerate it himself.

“What do you want us to do with it?” Brutus asked.

“Dispose of it.” Henry snapped, clearly finding the question very stupid, “We don’t need any travelers or advisors visiting the city to see this!”

“Of course, sir.” Brutus bobbed his head before turning away to rally his troops to (somehow) get rid of the huge monster corpse.

Henry whirled around, his cloak whooshing in the air as he strode back into the castle and down one of the long, elegant halls. He mounted that wing’s staircase and headed up, walking until he came to a certain doorway. With a light knock on the frame, he entered, smiling gently at the woman sitting in a cushioned chair inside.

“Is it dead?” Asked the teenager beside the queen. Katherine’s eyes were wide, bright despite the horror out in the courtyard, yet fearful at the same time. The ward had always been like that- ever since she was taken under Jane’s wing three years ago when she was just thirteen.

Jane tipped her head up to her husband, silently asking the same thing.

“Yes,” Henry answered. “Are you all alright? My love, are you uninured? Is Edward-?”

Jane stood and gently placed her hands atop Henry’s much larger ones. At her touch, the large, bear-like, supposedly-unstoppable king silenced instantly.

“We’re fine,” Jane whispered. She raised one hand to cup his cheek. “Edward was a little spooked, but he’s calm, now. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“There’s everything to worry about.” Henry grumbled. He thumped heavily past his wife and moved over to the bed, where his six-year-old son was sitting quietly. The young boy was staring out the window, but craned his head around when his father approached and extended his arms to be picked up. Henry obliged, lifting him immediately, as if he thought holding his heir would protect him from any monster or demon or abomination from the darkest reaches of Hell. “You saw the beast, did you not? They’re getting bigger. Stronger. They’re killing more soldiers. They’re going to get to you eventually.”

He noticed Katherine grimace out of the corner of his eye. Jane purses her lips in thought.

“That won’t happen,” Jane finally said, but even she didn’t miss how she hesitated. “We can make more alliances. We can get more defenses.”

Henry actually laughed, which jostled Edward slightly against his chest. The little boy clung tightly to his tunic, eyes wide.

“Your optimism is one of many reasons why I fell in love with you,” Henry said. However, his expression and tone both quickly darken. “You believe a human can topple one of those creatures? You think too good of our knights. Not even they can bring down a beast as big as this castle.”

“They get that big?” Katherine whispered, bug-eyed.

“They can,” Henry nodded.

“Surely there is someone who can slay the monsters.” Jane said, desperation leaking into her voice.

“I’m afraid there is-”

Henry stopped himself mid-sentence. For a moment, his mouth hung agape, eyes slowly getting wider. Edward looks up at him curiously. Jane and Katherine exchange anxious glances, with Jane taking a worried step towards her husband.

“Henry? My love?”

“There is.”

Jane tilted her head.

“Excuse me?”

“There is someone who can slay the beasts.” Henry repeated, his expression significantly brighter. He presses a kiss to Edward’s head and then sets him down on the bed. He takes Jane’s hands in his own, squeezing tightly. “You will be safe, my love. I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever.”

Jane had no idea what he was talking about until the next day. The only hints she got was loud bickering from the courtroom and anxious advisors, and the pieces didn’t click any better when Henry lead her to the dungeons. Instead of going down to the cells, however, they took a narrow, dim hallway that was just off the side of prison staircase. At the end of the mysterious corridor was a rusty door as old as time itself that took an equally-ancient key to open.

Instantly, a wave of foul-smelling air rolled out. The single guard that was taken along gagged and shielded his nose with his hand, nearly setting his hair ablaze in the process when the torch he was holding waved haphazardly with the motion. Jane grimaced and swallows thickly to keep her lunch down, but Henry didn’t even flinch. He took the torch from the guard and descended the stairs.

“What is this?” Jane asked quietly, stricken by this secret passageway. When she glanced back at the guard, she realized that he, too, had been unknown to this place.

“Quarantine.” Henry simply said.

At the bottom of the staircase was a wide, long, dimly lit hallway lined with cells. At first glances, it looked just like a regular dungeon, but there was something very wrong about this prison.

“What…what is that thing…?!” The guard whispered fearfully, staring with wide eyes at what exactly was being kept down there.

Swaying in the middle of the nearest cell was…a person? It looked like a person, in shape and physique at least, but its skin…its skin was shades of pink, like muscle. In fact, it looked as if it had been completely skinned and left alive with everything else exposed.

The thing didn’t react to the presence of the king and queen and guard. It just stood there, rocking back and forth on its creaky legs without a care in the world.

“Henry,” Jane breathed, struggling to look away from the horrid presence in the cell.

“They’re Undead.” Henry finally began to explain. “Carcasses cursed with life.”

“So they’re dead?” Asked the guard in morbid curiosity. “H-how? How is that possible?”

Henry shrugged in an unkingly way.

“Beyond me. Some think it’s a curse from God, others a blessing. Whatever it may be, the outcomes are fascinating.”

He began to walk again, waving the torch around to light up the cells. Remnants of flickering embers were lit in metal tins hanging from the ceiling, swinging lightly in the putrid, stale air.

In the second cell, two Undead were held, both asleep in piles of rags. Across from their room, an Undead with skin the color of burned bread was stretched out on its stomach, limbs extended like how a dog would lay, staring blankly at the wall. This one actually glanced over at the new arrivals and maintained its gaze for a moment, before huffing and looking back at the wall, seemingly uninterested.

“Edwin has been researching them for awhile now,” Henry went on. Hearing that the court physician was interested in these things wasn’t very surprising. “He said some of them look different because of the stages of decomposition. How incredible is that? Subspecies of Undead.”

From behind them, one of the Undead were waking up. It stretches its arms out as it awakens and trips over the other Undead when it’s padding across the cell, causing the second to wake up and start squeaking and keening loudly. The first spun around and stomped its feet like it was cold, returning the noises with some of its own. After a moment, the second Undead grumbled and then flopped back down.

“Can they speak?” The guard asked.

“Not that I’ve heard.” Henry answered.

They continue on, passing by an Undead bloated beyond recognition laying on the floor and reaching a stiff arm out of its cell door and another- this one grey with speckles of rotting black and green on its face and hands- facing the wall in silence.

“Hey!” Henry suddenly snapped. He charged forward at an Undead that was tinkering with the locking mechanism on its cell door. It leapt backwards with a screech and, suddenly, the prison was a cacophony of shrieking and screaming.

The guard covered his ears, not caring about how cowardly or weak it seemed. He nearly fled the dungeon when the Undead across from the mischievous one crashed into its cell door, causing it to rattle loudly and seemingly shake the entire wall, despite it being made out of stone. It grabs the bars and starts shrilling at the one in the room opposite it, almost like it was berating it. The troublesome Undead returns with growls and cries of its own until an Undead further down the hall sticks its head out of the bars and howls at them both, silencing everything.

With a huff, the wannabe escapee pads away and disappears into one of the corners to mope. The one in the cell across from it doesn’t move for a moment, instead taking time to analyze the new arrivals. Once it was done scanning the trio, it turns around and shuffled back to its sleeping area.

“Why are we here?” Jane asked, thoroughly freaked out.

“To get one.” Henry said, “What is better to slay a monster than another monster? These things are fierce. Plus, they can’t die, so they can fight in place of our troops for as long as needed.” He smiled, proud of his plan. “One of these Undead is going to be your bodyguard.”

Jane stared at Henry for a long time, waiting for him to laugh and say it was just a joke, but he didn’t. She swallowed hard and slowly began advancing down the hall, peering into each cell and trying to find the least creepy-looking creature.

There was one with hair still on its head, clumps of brown strewn everywhere, bangs dangling down in front of the sunken in eyes, but its guts were hanging out of a gash across its stomach and it was entertaining itself by twirling the end of its small intestines in the air, so she passed on that one.

Another had its entire chest cavity exposed and some of its ribs were chipped off. In fact, right it front of her, it snapped off one of the bones on the right side and tossed it to the Undead across the hall, who keened gratefully and began gnawing hungrily.

Further down the hall, a clothed Undead was on its hands and knees, biting at the tunic it was wearing, shaking its head wildly like a dog when it got some fabric in between its teeth. It seemed to have forgotten about its fingers.

There was an Undead that was almost completely skeleton, practically wearing any remaining droopy skin like clothes, and beside it was an Undead that hissed and growled at Jane when she came near. It backed itself up into a far corner and crouched low over a pile of rags like it was actually a collection of jewels. Jane quickly moved on before it could get even more angry.

Jane stopped in front of the next cell and peeked inside. The Undead was in the corner, one arm slung across its knees and face buried against the inside of the elbow. This one has hair- long, matted stands of blonde hanging loosely from its bowed head, scattered all over its back, shoulders, and legs. Its skin is very grey, especially on the face, which is leached of any other color, even on the lips. Puckering cuts and gashes can be seen from holes and slices in its ruined clothing. It didn’t react to Jane’s presence at all.

“What about this one?” Jane said, pointing through the bars slightly.

Henry peered at the Undead and hummed thoughtfully.

“Edwin said that one was new,” Henry said, “Only been here two years.”

Jane winced slightly. Two years down here must be like two hundred centuries.

Henry cleared his throat and Jane looks up at him, but she realizes he wasn’t trying to get her attention, rather the Undead’s. However, unlike it, it did not move.

Henry pressed his tongue against the inside of his lip and then took the dagger clipped onto his belt and ran it along the bars of the door, causing it to clank and rattle. That rouses the Undead, along with a few others, who keen and bleat in annoyance. The one in the room doesn’t make a sound, though, just raises its head. Bright eyes glow in the darkness.

“Come here, beast.” Henry commands.

The Undead creaked open its jaw slightly and hissed lowly between its teeth. It sounded like the winter wind.

Then, before Henry could speak again, it placed a palm flat against the dirty floor and pushed itself up. Its bare feet slap loudly against the stone ground as it stepped into the circle of light the torch was creating.

The first thing Jane noticed were the eyes. God the eyes… It looked as if someone had poured snow or milk or glaze onto the eyes and stained them white. They were so clouded that the thing looked blind. Remnants of the color they used to be- grey-green it seemed- could just faintly be seen beneath the pale gloss.

The second thing was that this Undead was a girl. A young girl. She couldn’t be any older than Katherine, maybe even younger.

“This one.” Jane decided right then.

Henry nodded, then turned his full attention the Undead.

“Are you listening to me?”

It bobs its head.

“Good. You are going to stand by my wife- your queen- and protect her, no matter what. She is your master- you are her sword and shield. Whatever or whoever may cause her harm or wish her to be hurt, you are to eliminate them. Do you understand me?”

The Undead nods again.

“Very good.”

Without warning, Henry grabs Jane’s hand and carves an X across her right palm with the dagger. The pain is sharp and makes the air rush from Jane’s lungs in shock, but she does not struggle. She heard Henry murmur an apology and he presses a soft kiss to the crown of her head before making the same marking on the Undead’s hand. Then, he coats two fingers in Jane’s blood and smears it across and inside the X on the thing’s mark.

From the mixture of the blood, the Undead’s eyes widen and blue flowed through the veins in its- _her_ \- arms. She stared down at her hands, ignoring the dark red flowing from the palm wound, and watches in silenced awe as some of her humanity is restored. Then, she lowers herself down to one knee and bows before Jane.

———

Fangs are growing in over the teeth that are already there, flat teeth, human teeth. Those have to go. 

Her joints ache from kneeling on the cold stone of the prison, even the thin cloth laid over it does not dispel the chill.

The feathers don’t come in right, growing into her skin, itching and scratching. She rakes her long, hooked nails over her ribs until she draws blood and pus.

Scales bristle beneath her flesh, as itchy as the feathers.

Handprint bruises on her wrists and wasted biceps, purple and yellow. No fault of anybody- her skin is so delicate, even the gentlest hand leaves a mark.

Fever chills, seizures, blood from her bitten tongue, staining the sleeping rags and drying crusted on her face.

Hardship purifies the soul, they say. Be ascetic in all that you do. 

It has only been a day since the restore of some humanity, but she is already so weak. Her heart, so used to not having to tire itself by beating, aches as it thumps within her chest. She can feel every pump and flow of blood, every contraction in her throat, every wriggle in her gut as her organs start to work again- as her small intestines start to writhe like eels.

She is drawn to the bright tower that is the torch left for her, the flames licking thirstily at the air. A poor substitute for proper body heat. She wants to lay her hand upon the soft cinders.

In the chilly quarantined prison, every breath drawn into her raw lungs is a knife in her chest.

_“Living feel like what?”_ Creaks the Undead across from her cell. He’s reclining against the bars, glazed eyes glowing in the darkness of his room.

_“Hurt.”_ She responded.

He nodded very slowly, as if she had just spoken the words of God. His swollen, dried out tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth, then he raises a peeling hand and points to the cluster of feathers growing out of her shoulder.

_“Monster?”_

_“Aye.”_

She took the feathers in her hands and pulled them out. She takes one and reaches out of the bars of her cell, handing it to the Undead who had spoken to her. He takes it with a grateful coo.

_“Treasure.”_ He whispered, running his fingertips over the discolored fringes.

She hummed and started pulling out the feathers and then scales- it seemed as if her body couldn’t remember that she was not an animal. Or, perhaps, it was trying to strengthen her by mixing her human and Undead blood with a monster’s. Right now, she couldn’t quite tell.

She drags herself over to her corner and flops down, wincing when hitting the ground. Her frail bones throbbed in disagreement at the action- _careful! careful!_ They screamed. _be more careful!_

The floor was as uncomfortable as usual, but she just kept telling herself that this was her last night down there. By morning, she would be retrieved and brought up to the surface.

Once more, she would be kissed by the light, by the warmth, by the dawn.

———

Because nobody liked the smell of cadaverine or putrescine, the chosen Undead was washed at the queen’s command. The servants who were ordered to do this were less than thrilled. The Undead, however, seemed perfectly content with the bath. The water was warm and all the grit and grime from the prison was scrubbed away. At times, she would arch her spine into the hands cleaning her back, much to the servant’s discomfort.

After an hour, the Undead dragged her waterlogged body out of the bathing pool and shook herself like a wet animal. She dresses herself in leather armor with steel plates, which had been given to her from the armory, along with a sword and shield. She almost looked like a regular knight, if it weren’t for the growing fangs and claws and grey skin and blind-but-not-really eyes. She fooled Edward and Katherine, who were brought in with Jane after the new guard was cleaned. They quickly realized, however, that she was anything but natural.

“Mum,” Katherine said slowly, “Who is that?”

“That’s- well, I don’t really know her name, but she’s my new bodyguard. Remember? I told you about her last night.” Jane said.

“Yeah, but you didn’t say she looked…like _that_.” Katherine waved a hand at the Undead, who is glaring daggers. “What’s wrong with her eyes? Is she blind or something?”

“She is not blind,” Jane said. She took a step towards the Undead, causing Edward to fidget nervously. She held out a hand and the creature gets down on one knee, bowing her head low. With a flick of the queen’s wrist, she’s on her feet. “These are Edward, my son, and Katherine, my ward.”

The Undead nodded slowly, very slowly, still analyzing the two new arrivals. She was looking for a threat, Jane realized.

“You can trust them.” The queen said, setting a hand on her guard’s shoulder.

“But can you just it?” Katherine piped back up, “She’s an Undead isn’t she?”

“How do you know what that is?” Jane asked.

“I like to read Mister Edwin’s books,” Katherine shrugged, but quickly went back to being pointed. “They have magic, you know? Dangerous magic. Witchcraft! That goes against God’s words!”

“When did you get so adamant about religion?” Jane raised an eyebrow, making Katherine very miffed and annoyed.

“Mum, I’m just- I’m trying-” The teenager stammered, causing the Undead to laugh. “They’re dangerous! The witchcraft!”

A smile twitched on the Undead’s lips and, as if to prove Katherine’s claim, plucked up a towel she had used and stared hard at it. Before the ward could make a comment, the towel floated into the air and began doing somersaults and flips and other various tricks. The Undead flashed a sly smirk at Katherine, rubbing her talent into the magicless ward.

“Woah,” Edward murmured softly in awe.

Katherine was definitely grinding her teeth, which amused the Undead. She shot her glare.

“How amazing,” Jane said, watching the towel move around effortlessly. “You were right, sweetie.” She smiled at Katherine, who eased up a little at the use of the pet name.

The Undead sniffed and swiped the towel out of the air, whatever magic that had been flowing through its seams and threads dissipating at her touch. She held it tightly, sizing Katherine up before deciding that the ward wasn’t worth the effort.

At the moment, at least.

“Now, you,” Jane turned to her guard, who quickly straightened up. “Can you tell me your name?”

The Undead nodded and jabbed one of her claws into the barely-scabbed-over X on her right palm. With the talon coated in blood, she began to scrawl on the wall.

J

O

A

N

———

The castle and courtyard was lit up from end-to-end, firelight swathing the palace walls in hues of gold and orange and red. People bustled and chatted like birds, crunching loudly through the layer of snow that had fallen a few hours earlier. A light icy mist was still sprinkling, bathing everyone in shimmering and sparkling droplets as if the stars had showered over them and attached themselves to their clothes.

Standing amongst the crowd outside on the pavilion was Katherine and her cousin, Anne, and friend, Cathy. Katherine was deep in a humorous explanation about how many parties Henry threw.

“Oh, how terrible,” Anne said, “I bet it’s just so awful to live in the palace and have tea with the queen and be burdened by all these pretty dresses!”

The three of them erupted into giggles, however Katherine shut up when a certain someone passed by her.

“There,” She pointed, “That’s the one I wrote to you about.”

“Woah,” Anne said, “Is she blind?”

“No,” Katherine shook her head. “She’s Undead.”

Joan was not oblivious to the conversation going on about her. She tipped her head in that direction, watching Katherine and her friend’s gazes snap away. She stared for a long time, unblinking, then faced forward again and sidled closer to Jane.

“You can relax, you know,” Jane said with a light chuckle. “Go have fun, sweetheart.”

Joan just looked at her, head tilted slightly.

“Go on,” Jane nudges her gently. “I’ll be fine, honey.”

Joan looked around and then walked up to one of the stands giving out candles, causing the man running the booth to duck his head.

“Hello there,” He quavered, simultaneously annoyed and scared by her presence.

Joan pointed down at the candles and tilted her head. Her moon-like eyes stared deep into the booth owner’s soul.

“They’re incenses. We light them for fun. People like the smell.” The man explained.

Joan nodded, as if she were saying, _“Ah. Okay.”_ She reaches for her coin purse, but the man shoves a wax stick into her hands before she could even get the money out. She takes this as a sign to leave, but gets distracted when she was grabbing a match. A shady-looking man was peering out from an alleyway.

Instincts flaring, Joan tucked away the candle and walked around the building the alleyway was situated in the middle of. When she got close enough, she ducked behind a few barrels and listened.

“How much do you think it’ll go for?”

“Thousands, probably.”

“I hope so. It’s going to be a pain to get with all the guards.”

“Stick the plan and that won’t be a problem.”

Joan saw the flash of iron in torchlight. The men, there were three of them, were armed.

They were threats.

“Let’s get out there and do this already. It’s cold.”

“But Ursa isn’t back yet.”

“He knows where the meeting spot is. He can catch up. It’ll be easy without him.”

The three men started to walk to the other end of the alleyway, where Joan had seen one of them peek out. They were going out into the party, she realized, and she attempted to follow them, to stop them, but a hand covers her mouth.

She’s shoved roughly against the wall by a large, bulky man. Yellow teeth smirk at her.

“Well, aren’t you a strange sight.”

A hand glides up her leg, spending too much time between her inner thighs. Joan makes a muffled yowl as the touch moves to her chest, rubbing and groping. The scabs across her bosom are kneaded roughly.

“I think I can show up a little late. I’ll be able to say I shagged a freak of nature.”

Adrenaline pumped through Joan’s veins. The man leans closer to her and is breath is hot against her collarbone, smelling like ale and meat. She doesn’t even think to use her magic, instead clamping her sharp teeth down on the man’s ear and jerked her head to the side. Blood squirts onto her face and a metallic taste filled her mouth while the man screams. She spits out the ripped off ear and strikes the attacker with a nearby levitated barrel, which was enough to knock him unconscious.

Joan could have killed him, she was going to, actually, but then she heard screaming coming from the courtyard and she took off in that direction.

Jane. Jane had a knife to her throat. Jane was going to die.

Joan thrusted a hand outward and a jagged purple bolt of lightning shot out from her palm. It missed, blowing into one of the walls, and heads swiveled around to face her because of it.

“Who is that?” One of the men asked.

“I don’t know!”

“Kill her!”

A brown haired man was the one who charged into Joan with enough force to make her topple backwards. Joan hit the wall hard and then jerked around, narrowing dodging the end of a flail. When she moved, she heard a tearing sound and pain exploded in her side.

She savors the agony.

Joan shot a beam of freezing darkness out of her palm, managing to hit a man with beard in the shoulder. Before she can strike again, however, something hard connects with the back of her head; Joan is on the ground. She lands on her side and the brunette man is over her instantly, a snarl on his face. He reaches for her throat and Joan bites his hand.

“You little brat.” He growled.

Joan clicks in warning, but the man doesn’t take it. She inhales a hissing breath and then exhaled a beam of black ice, shooting the man down the throat. He wheezes and stumbles backwards, pawing tentatively at his neck. Then, he shivers.

The bandit is unable to scream as his insides freeze together. His olive skin starts to whiten while his body gets colder and colder. When he falls, his body is stiff, eyes and mouth wide open.

The bearded man stared in horror at the frozen body of his friend, which was the perfect moment for Joan to rip pillars of stone out of the ground and nail him in the stomach. She stalks up to him while he’s on his knees and shoves the candle from earlier down his throat. With just a flick of her wrist, the wick flares and the man starts to shriek.

Smoke billows out of the bandit’s lips as the flame burns powerfully in his neck. Oozing, bubbling wax bleeds out of his nose, mouth, and even eyes like molten lava. It’s so hot his eyes start to blacken and shrivel up in their sockets. At the same time, his throat starts to burn open, charred, goopy flesh stretching wide as the fire blazes within him.

His screams fade, eventually, but the candle still burns.

Joan turned around and stalked toward the remaining man, who is horrified, despite holding the queen at knifepoint. He seems to forget about his main goal and targets the thing that just killed his friends. He took the spear strapped to his back and lanced Joan through the stomach.

She doesn’t fall, though.

Instead, she reaches her own hands out and grabs onto the spear. She pulls hard, eventually yanking it from the man’s grasp and causing it to go in deeper through her, but if it hurts her, she doesn’t show it. Slowly, she pulls it out of the fresh hole in her stomach, a torrent of dark red blood spilling free upon removal.

“What…what are you?” The man whispered fearfully. He gets no answer from the moon-eyed creature, as she mutely jabs the spearhead directly through his throat.

Everyone else in the pavilion was still and silent. They all realized that the most powerful person to ever grace London was currently living among them.

And she was the queen’s bodyguard.


End file.
